The Forcebreaker - Legends from the Old Republic
by ApeUnit
Summary: Hadariel Vanis is a troubled padawan, yearning for more than what the Jedi can offer, in forces some would call unnatural. Pushed to the edge, his fall the grace of the Jedi could not have aligned at more tumultuous moment. ***Note: Worked on this draft of a story from the SWTOR era. Don't know if I'll return to it however. Thought I'd still share***


Star Wars

The Old Republic

_Coruscant_

Hadariel Vanis moved with the swiftness of the Force, navigating through the populated concourse of the lower level. The young padawan was in active pursuit of a fugitive and found himself vaulting over market stands, weaving between the crowds, as they shuffled about in their daily lives. The fugitive would race down a flight of stairs, duck behind a corner, and even turn to take a pot shot with his holdout blaster. All were in vain. The padawan was exceptionally in tune with the Force; sensing the fugitive's movements before they were executed. The blaster bolts would whizz harmlessly by and every advantage in distance from shortcuts taken were instantly closed.

Vanis was tall for a fifteen year old human, in excellent physical shape; he possessed an almost unnatural stamina, which leant itself advantageous for the chase. His steel blue eyes glowed with excitement at the thrill of the hunt, a trait that worried his master and some instructors at the Jedi Academy. By contrast, Vanis' master, a Twi'lek by the name of Bek'curuy, was struggling to remain in the pursuit.

The fugitive was a Weequay. Vanis did not know the criminal's true name, only the anonym adopted for their illicit enterprises, "Hands". The pursuit had initiated as a result of spice deal Bek'curuy and Vanis managed to disrupt. Hands was a supplier, connected to the Hutt Cartel, who had been under surveillance for some time. It was supposed to be a simple arrest once the deal had been completed. The transaction did not go according to plan, as the cadre of buyers had no intention of paying for the merchandise; brandishing their blasters in lieu of credits.

The deal disintegrating into violence; Vanis leapt from the rafters where he and his master had been observing. The master protested, even reached out an arm to seize his padawan's cloak, but the youth abandoned the bulky over-garment and gave chase. The several members of the Republic's SIS, who the Jedi were aiding in this operation, moved to subdue the hostiles. Only Hands was able to slip the web of law enforcers and make his escape.

Vanis scaled the façade of the building Hands entered. It was a station to the ward's elevated hypertrain, able to rapidly transport citizens across this level of the sprawling ecumenopolis. Peering into the mind of Hands, Vanis was able to interpret the fugitive's plan to hop the train and disappear at any one of the stations along the route. Part of climbing the outside of the station was to present the illusion the pursuer had been thrown off the trail. Vanis sensed a somewhat feeling of reprieve; Hands trusting the evasion was successful.

Soon enough, a hypertrain pulled into the station and Hands was able to board, pushing through the throngs of people. Vanis crouched patiently on the roof of the station and observed the fugitive enter the center carriage of the nine car hypertrain. As the train began its acceleration out of the station, the padawan vaulted from his position and landed on the roof the carriage.

The hypertrain gathered speed, its conical shape aiding in the acceleration to cover the vast distances of its route. Vanis crept along the roof and approached an access hatch at the end of the carriage. The fugitive was at the far end of the car and had taken a seat. The seating was a bench arrangement that ran the length of the carriage. The interior was dimly lit, with many of lights dysfunctional or in disrepair. It was one of the seedier levels on Coruscant, with graffiti and litter comprising the majority of the décor.

The hatch opened, Vanis was able to use the darkness to his advantage; slipping into the carriage unseen and concealing to the shadows. Every jolt the hypertrain made along the guide rail momentarily cut the interior lighting, as power briefly fluctuated. Tasteless drawings and hieroglyphs were plastered all throughout the carriage's interior in florescent paint. It added to the sensory distortion with ever flicker of the lights.

Hands pulled his hood over his head and fixated his absent gaze to the floor beneath his boots. It was an effort blend in and not attract any attention. There was hardly room to stand, as the carriage was packed with the downtrodden, impoverished, and lunatic fringes of Coruscant society that comprised this lower level of the Galactic City. The more vociferous and unhinged individuals were making an obvious scene; distractions that aided Vanis, as he stalked his way through the commuters.

The hypertrain arrived at the next station, yet Hands did not get up from his seat. Some disembarked the train, others boarded, not enough to significantly alter the complement of passengers. Vanis had withdrawn his lightsaber from his belt and held it discreetly in his right hand; ready to ignite the blade. Reaching out with the Force, Vanis was able to clear the passengers in the immediate vicinity of Hands. It was a mental projection; an intense feeling of dread and fear that Vanis projected. The padawan was meddling with powers of the Force not conventionally aligned with Jedi ideology. The fear subsequently manifested within the passengers fed back to Vanis, only to further build his strength.

No master of Jedi had taught this manipulation of the Force to the young Vanis. It was power that came instinctively to the padawan. He never thought to question its origins or even the ethical implications of using it on other, non-Force sensitive beings. To Vanis, it was a type of Force healing exercise that simply varied from the more traditional ways of the Jedi Masters. One day, Vanis told himself, he would fully grasp the power correctly.

The padawan was within a meter, the fugitive still had his attention focused on the ground. Vanis was absorbing the feelings of uncertainty and fatigue experienced by Hands. Stillness descended on the carriage, as Vanis tuned all distractions out and focused on this target. The lightsaber was at his side, a finger tapping the activation button. Then a shrill noise cut through the passenger compartment; a computerized notification audible to indicate an urgent contact.

The communicator Vanis carried on his person began to flash and shriek. In the excitement of the pursuit, he had forgotten to silence the notification tone. The alarm caused Hands to look up and instantly sight the hunter. Vanis lifted his right arm above his head; prepared to activate the blade.

Hands was fast, the fugitive had to be when confronted by a Jedi. Before Vanis could ignite the weapon, Hands rocketed forward from the seat directly at the padawan. The fugitive dove at Vanis, charging into the torso of the youth and tackling him to the ground.

The pair were locked in a desperate grapple, the lightsaber having been knocked free of Vanis' grasp upon the impact. The Jedi's weapon slid along the floor of the carriage from the momentum. The fugitive wound up a punch and delivered it across the face of the padawan with his right hand. The left was pressing as hard as it could to hold the youth to the ground.

The punch tore across Vanis' left cheek. Tiny barbs sewn into the fugitive's gauntlets dug into the padawan's flesh and extracted bits of skin when withdrawn. Blood started to seep from the deep wounds on Vanis' face, the pain only seemed to infuriate the padawan more. Hands threw a second heavy punch and then a third.

When the fourth punch was delivered and Hands pulled back, he gasped at the sight. The profusely bleeding Vanis was laughing, a sinister, curdling laugh that conveyed no humor. The fugitive was horrified at the sight, as were the terrified onlookers. It was temporary lull in the assault and emotion filled the air. Vanis was taking it all in, the pain leaving his body and replaced by a vengeful desire to inflict suffering.

Vanis manipulated the Force. Hands felt an intense pressure tighten around his neck, as if he were being strangled. The fugitive began gasping for air, with each breath becoming labored and more difficult than the one before. The pressure increased, yet there was nothing visibly choking the fugitive. Vanis gradually raised his left hand; the fingers all bent in towards the palm.

Hands was lifted from ground and floating a few centimeters from the floor. He was suspended by the Force, controlled by the padawan. All the while, the pressure remained on his windpipe and restricted breathing. Vanis motioned his hand to his left. With it, the fugitive was thrown against the side of the carriage interior. The collision shattered a holoscreen that had displayed product advertisements occasionally interrupted by a station map. Hands felt several bones in his right arm crack and a sharp pain jolted through his body.

The youth was not finished with the fugitive, however. Shifting his left hand again, Vanis used the Force to send Hands crashing into the opposite side of the carriage interior. The second impact shattered several ribs of the fugitive, but the breathing had been able to commence once again. Vanis had released his Force hold from the throat and the rest of the body. Hands landed on the ground in a painful thud.

The misery delighted Vanis and he felt more energized with every blow inflicted on his prey. The padawan slightly raised his right hand and drew his lightsaber back to him with the Force. The hypertrain had just come to a stop at the station. When the doors opened, the passengers trampled over one another to escape the violent altercation. For a final time, Vanis lifted Hands with the Force and violently ejected him, from the door that had just opened, onto the platform.

The fugitive slammed against the platform concrete; tumbling for several meters before coming to a stop some distance away. Vanis casually stepped from the hypertrain and approached the severely wounded opponent. Depressing the activation button, the padawan ignited his saber.

The distinct buzz and the glowing blue light made it clear to all those around this was Jedi business. Not wanting involvement, the platform was almost instantly deserted. Hands struggled to get propped up on his elbows and then instantly froze when he saw the powered lightsaber. He was coughing and spitting up the colored blood of the Weequay species.

"P…please," Hands managed over the coughing and injuries. "I…I surrender to you, Master Jedi."

By now, Vanis was standing over the broken fugitive. The pain and terror was intoxicating to the padawan, who nearly stumbled from the overwhelming surge. He had to pause for a moment to recollect his thoughts. Quickly, Vanis was able to bring forth his prejudice against non-humans and channeled that hatred at Hands.

"Surrender!?" Vanis let out a sinister chuckle. "Vermin do not get to surrender. What gives a roach as yourself the audacity to think they are deserving of quarter?"

Vanis had to spit out the blood that had collected in his mouth from the sustained blows. Hands tried to summon the energy to escape, to crawl away from the impending fate of being slashed by this crazed Jedi. The lightsaber raised above his head, Vanis brought the weapon down to deliver the killing blow. The fugitive recoiled in anticipation, shutting his eyes in terror, and then, nothing.

When Hands felt no slash, no burn from the blade, he cautiously opened his eyes to see for himself, what was otherwise unbelievable. Vanis was pulling down on his lightsaber with all of his strength, trying desperately to inch it closer to his victim. Stopping the energy blade was Master Bek'curuy, his own green lightsaber extended and blocking the blow from Vanis.

"Enough!" exclaimed Bek'curuy.

The Twi'lek Jedi shifted his lightsaber and forcefully knocked Vanis' weapon upwards. In a two-step approach executed simultaneously, Bek'curuy used to Force to first extract Vanis' lightsaber from the padawan's grasp and then hurl the youth back across the platform.

Agents from the Strategic Information Service began to pour into the station, their blasters raised to take the fugitive into custody. They and Master Bek'curuy had followed the train in airspeeders; arriving just in time to prevent further bloodletting. Hands gave a subtle nod of appreciation to the master, who only replied with a curt grunt. Bek'curuy had the matter of an insubordinate padawan to focus his attention.

**000**

_Jedi Temple_

Vanis sat isolated in the meditation room. His face still stung from where the barbs dug into his fleshed when punched by the Weequay's gauntlet. The bleeding had stopped, but they left two deep and noticeable scars Vanis would likely carry the rest of his life. One began above his left brow and ran outwards, having just missed his eye. The second left a huge gash on his left cheek.

The room was dark. No windows and low illuminators meant to limit distractions, and allow the Jedi within to focus intently on their mediation. This had been the routine, or rather punishment, for the past three weeks. In the interim, Master Bek'curuy and the Jedi Council debated on what should be done with the padawan.

Bek'curuy gave testimony before the Council on Vanis' actions and argued for the padawan's expulsion from the Order. His arguments gathered traction with members on the Council. Some Council members regarded Vanis with apprehension and saw the potential for the havoc he could wrought if elevated to the rank of Jedi Knight. The slight majority favored retaining Vanis as a Jedi, simply for the fact they could maintain an oversight of the youth. Bek'curuy was aging and doubted his ability to continue instructing Vanis, or any padawan in the field. He humbly requested an instructor's posting at the Academy. The Council had to take that request under consideration.

The mediation was a twelve hour cycle that began at dawn and ran to early evening. Afterwards, the Jedi would be allowed two hours of physical training or study before a meal and then return to the dormitory for the night. Fasting was an important aspect of the mediation; only allowing the Jedi a single meal per day. They were to detach from their surroundings and focus solely on a connection deeper into the Force. This was to be repeated day after day until the Council directed otherwise.

The intention was to have Vanis reflect on his actions and work to suppress his emotions, mainly his outbursts of rage. The emotions were becoming more and more prevalent with the padawan. The consequence being his frequent insubordination and violent tendencies. His mater's patience had just about worn out.

Vanis had his reasons to be angry. In fact, he never fully desired the lifestyle required of a Jedi. Vanis was the eldest son of House Vanis of Koruna. The Koruna System was located along the Entralla Trade Route in the proximity of Jaemus and Muunilinst. It contained four habitable planets, Koruna Prime, Baelia, Benanerth, and Pesmea. While the Koruna System was a member state of the Republic with representation in the Senate, House Vanis maintained sovereignty over the territorial space and planets. The abundance of natural resources, heavy industry, shipbuilding, and proximity to the Entralla Route made it one of the wealthier systems in the Outer Rim.

The patriarch of House Vanis and Hadariel's father, Lomond Vanis, ruled over his domain in a feudal system, as the Viscount. The Vanis were the uncontested heads of state, and they granted wealth, land, titles as favors to those who supported their rule. Their House controlled the vast resources of the Koruna System and the patriarch held considerable power. For over a thousand years, Koruna's booming economy and prosperity to be had by all, meant there were very few calls to upheave the status quo. Hadariel, the first born son, was in succession to takeover rule from his father and be named the Viscount of Koruna.

When he was an infant, it was discovered Hadariel had a connection to the Force. It was a strong enough connection to bring the attention of the Jedi. Only a few months old, an envoy of Jedi masters arrived at the palace on Koruna Prime for the child. At first Lomond and his wife, Hela, objected. The Viscount had his senator on Coruscant raise a strong protestation before the Senate in an effort to force the Republic to intervene and stop the taking of his child. The Senate's only response was to cite the law concerning the transfer of Force sensitive children to the custody of the Jedi, and threatened economic sanctions against Koruna if further remonstrations were made.

With reluctance and despair, the Viscount had to concede and allow the Jedi to take his child away to their Temple; to induct Hadariel into their order. Lomond and his wife grieved as if they had lost their son to tragedy. Both parents were well aware of the path he would be coerced to follow. The Jedi conditioning would strip away the child's ability to maintain a familial relationship or emotional attachment. Hadariel felt a great deal of resentment at being denied what was his rightful inheritance. The control of the Force was one benefit and Hadariel enjoyed the power along with its mastery, however, he would also prefer to be ridiculously affluent.

In this meditation chamber, Vanis was not meditating, but rather sleeping. For Vanis had been up the entire night and was using the assigned isolated meditation as his opportunity to rest. Each of the previous four nights, Vanis had slipped out of the dormitory and the Temple to explore the nocturnal scene on Coruscant. He had abandoned his traditional Jedi robes at the dormitory and adopted more nondescript attire, so as to better melt into the population.

During each nightly outing, Vanis would meet an individual with significant connections to the criminal underworld. Bek'curuy and Vanis had used this contact before to arrange the botched spice deal. Vanis now wanted to obtain information. Their meetings took place at an establishment on a lower level. Not typically allowing entry to minors, he had to frequently employ Jedi mind persuasion to bypass the doormen.

Details of the violent arrest of the Weequay, Hands, made their way to a particularly scrupulous Republic Senator. The Senator, known for his outspoken opinions on the Jedi, believed the Order held too much power and had no place being involved in Republic matters. It was his belief the Jedi acted without any legal oversight and exercised power however they pleased, with no accountability to the established Republic Government. If anything, he advocated for the Jedi to be made a department under the Republic's control; able to be dispatched at the orders of the Senate. When this Senator was made aware of Hands' brutal capture, he pulled every sting he could to secure the Weequay's release by the dismissal of all charges. It was to be a message to the Jedi that they were not above the law.

When Vanis learned of the release, he flew into a rage. A senior padawan and instructor had to subdue a wildly thrashing Vanis and drag him flailing to a locked room. There he remained until he calmed down. Compiled on was the humiliating fact that Vanis had to be stopped by his master to prevent ending the Weequay's life. This outburst weighed heavily in the Council's deliberations.

Today, Vanis was eager and woke in the early afternoon within the meditation chamber. He was well rested and looking forward to the approaching night. Arrangements had been made with the underworld contact. Vanis had agreed to sell the informant, an Ithorian, a genuine Jedi lightsaber for ten thousand Republic credits. He had pilfered one of the training models from the Temple armory. Included in the deal was Hands. The Ithorian agreed to locate Hands within the underworld and arrange to lure the Weequay a location of Vanis' choosing.

Night soon descended on this hemisphere of the city. As the urban landscape encompassed the entire planet, there was always a perpetual night to be found, for those interested. Vanis knew he would be barely missed. He made few friends while studying to be a padawan and managed to alienate a majority of his classmates through his antics. The other padawans, Vanis deduced, lacked the conviction to master the Force to the potential he sought. So he held them in little regard.

Unnoticed, Vanis had changed his attire and slipped out from the Temple perimeter to the city. Within the inner pocket of the jacket he tucked was his lightsaber. A city of billions and billions, one could never be too careful when venturing out. Approaching and boarding a lift, Vanis descended several hundred levels to the one where the cantina was located. It was a lower level, but still had access, though barely, to the rays of sun that permeated through the towering urban structures.

It was said this was the lowest level Senators were willing to travel and the closest to the surface the crime lords would venture. The perfect place for both to find common ground. Ostentatious and blinding advertisement holoscreens flickered from every building. They coated the walkway below with their offensive hue. The holograms flashed products or services offered, from the highest end of luxury, bargain deals to news and service announcements.

Vanis shuffled along at the edge of the crowd. He kept to the shadows and avoided any interactions that might bring attention. In addition to the bomber jacket, he wore a flight cap, with the sides pulled down to help obscure his features. All outward appearances made him look like another spacer exploring the scene before having to return to his ship. Nothing out of the ordinary among the masses. The stolen lightsaber was hidden within a courier parcel, tucked under Vanis' arm.

The cantina was one of several that lined this particular strip on the busy walkway. A large open area separated this side of the strip from the one opposite, so as to permit aircars and speeders to travel. There were spaces where vehicles and transports could stop to embark or discharge passengers. It was a vibrant district for being this far from the surface, with partygoers, celebratory entourages, and solitary alcoholics all flocking to the many enterprising purveyors of libations.

Holograms of seductive Twi'lek women emanated at the entryway of almost every establishment. Their purpose was to lure patrons inside to be plied with drink and separated from their credits. Vanis knew where he was heading and stepped through the large opened entryway. A magenta skinned Twi'lek woman spun in the holographic light, as the beacon for the parched.

A wave of his hand and Vanis was able to supplant the thought in the two bouncers at the entryway that he was much older than they perceived. Inside, a central bar build in a circular design sat in the epicenter of the tiered cantina layout. This allowed the service droids to fill drinks more quickly and efficiently. A sound jockey blasted electrical music from their booth located in an elevated section and its noise nearly deafened all patrons. Some danced on designated tiers, others drank themselves into a stupor. Vanis located an empty stool at the bar and coolly ordered a Corellian ale from the serving droid. The droid, programmed to understand identifications were verified at the door, obliged to fill the order.

"You're a little young to be in here, aren't you?" a woman's voice calmly said.

Vanis turned to his right to see a young woman leaning back in the bar chair and staring at him with a suggestive look. She was tall and slender, with dark black hair flowing just above her shoulders. The young woman was dressed in a casual suit in the popular style worn around the city, as appropriate for informal meetings or outings; light gray matching jacket and trousers accented in black. Her features were stunningly beautiful and Vanis found himself lost in her trance. It was more than just a trance, a connection through the Force perhaps. Shaking his head, Vanis returned to the moment.

"If the doormen approved identification," Vanis humored. "It would be safe to assume I am old enough."

"I watched you enter," she replied. "You didn't show any identification pass; just waved your hand and walked right in."

The padawan was surprised by the astute observation of this mysterious figure at the bar, how she was keenly observing him. For what purpose, Vanis did not know. For a young human male, he could not keep his eyes off of her, despite the emotional suppression training the Jedi instilled at the Academy.

"Meeting someone?" she asked, glancing at the courier parcel.

"Yeah," Vanis said, stumbling for a lie while clutching tightly to the parcel containing the lightsaber. "Captain sent me from the ship. Supposed to meet our client here and deliver this package."

The young woman rolled her eyes, as a gesture she saw directly through the poorly executed fabrication. She lifted the glass the bar droid had just filled and stood.

"Didn't realize the Jedi were in the business of selling lightsabers on the black market," she whispered into Vanis' ear.

Vanis grunted under his breath at the insinuation, both out of the fact it was true and she somehow knew. The woman sauntered off to a recently vacated booth along a wall, beyond the dancefloor. It was sheltered by a staircase to the other tiers and out of view of most of the patrons. The very booth where Vanis had met with his Ithorian contact to arrange this transaction a few days prior.

Vanis thought that it had been made clear to the contact that the Ithorian was the only one he was willing to meet with. No other parties or individuals were to be involved, so as to reduce the risk of being identified. This woman had inserted herself in the transaction, against his wishes. Yet, there was something about her that Vanis could not place. Her beauty was serving as a distraction to the padawan, who still could not divert his gaze.

Believing it was prudent to follow her over the blatant staring, Vanis flicked a credit chit on the bar and rose to his feet. He crossed the dancefloor over to the booth, though he did not immediately sit down. The woman leaned back against the cushion with her left arm resting and her right hand tilting the glass back to drink.

"Where's the Ithorian?" Vanis asked, a frown descending on his brow. "I told him I wasn't dealing with anyone else."

"The Ithorian was able to bring me up to speed," she said coolly. "Before I had my people throw him over the level's railing. Suffice it to say, he not be able to join us."

Vanis snarled and was about to storm away.

"Thirty thousand," she said, catching his attention.

The figure had the intended effect. Vanis turned swiftly and took a seat opposite the woman. The courier parcel was still firmly in his grasp.

"It's not worth thirty thousand," Vanis motioned to the parcel, suspicious and curious at the same time. "What is it you really want?"

"Never thought I'd meet a Jedi motivated by greed," the woman replied.

"Never said I was. Just curious, as to what you want from me?"

"You aren't like the other Jedi. They don't see the Galaxy as you see it. They're living a fantasy devoid of emotion and seeking peace."

"We're not here to debate Jedi ethics. So what's this really about!?"

Vanis was becoming annoyed, the anger within him started to manifest. He wanted to withdraw his lightsaber from his inner coat pocket and ignite the blade. Holding it to this woman's neck, he wanted to get to the point, get her to admit how much she knew. The cantina full of witnesses meant he could take no such action.

"Heebl Volsulc," she began. "Goes by the alias, 'Hands'. Thirty thousand is the current price on the Weequay's head. It seems the Hutts were not at all happy with his arrest and the amount of Republic attention it generated."

"So you're after the bounty?" Vanis let out an annoyed sigh. "Claim the credits for all I care, it isn't the money I want. The Weequay is mine to kill!"

Not keeping his anger in check, Vanis slammed a fist down on the table. The young woman calmly tilted her drink back to take a sip of the blended alcohol.

"You take me for a common bounty hunter," the young woman scoffed. "You should know that Ithorian had been running its mouths about your arrangement, even saying he was getting a lightsaber out of it. Word travels fast in this part of town, which is how we were able to track him down so easily."

"You never said who you people are?" Vanis said, annoyed at the lack of answers.

The young woman slowly reached for the inside pocket of her jacket. Vanis moved a hand toward his lightsaber, ready to use it in the event the woman drew a holdout blaster. There was nothing he could sense in the woman. It was as if the Force was blocked from her, just stillness.

Her hand withdrew a small metallic case from the jacket, which she causally opened. Inside, there was a stack of translucent cards, the type business associates print their contact details, employer, and title. She pulled out a card and placed it on the table.

"We're the ones who tracked down Hands," she said, as she slid the card across the table.

Vanis accepted the card and lifted it from the table to read the text. It did not have the woman's identity printed, just the business. The corporation named was "Outer-Rim Exports", which Vanis knew right away was a front. All freight transit corporations were required by Republic law to print their registry number on any publication that bore their company's name. While the number was printed, it did not match the correct alpha-numerical format assigned by the revenue service. It was a meaningless number, but Vanis decided not to share that detail.

"He believes we arranged to take him off Coruscant," the young woman said. "And is going to meet us at this cantina; should be at any moment."

"I still don't understand, what is in it for you?" Vanis asked. "You've put in some effort arranging this entire thing."

The young woman finished her drink and set the empty glass down on the table. Vanis was placing the card into an interior pocket of his jacket. She smiled at Vanis, as she slid to the edge of booth and stood up.

"Just hold onto the card," the young woman turned to say. "Things are about to change around the Galaxy. Some for the good, most for the worse. If you are looking to take advantage of the situation, that card is how you can find us."

He was unable to concentrate on her any further, for at that moment, the Weequay Heebl Volsulc walked up to the bar. Hands was in the process of ordering a drink. Vanis leap up from his seat at the booth and brushed passed the young woman, not able to give her a second thought. He abandoned the parcel containing the stolen lightsaber in the seat. The anger coursed through his body, as he stormed across the cantina.

Hands was anxious; nervously tapping his leg at the bar. Vanis could sense the anxiety and drew upon it to feed his rage. Not able to realize what he was doing and despite not being trained by the Jedi in its practice, Vanis was projecting a sense of fear onto the Weequay.

He had performed this before, but it was a power not taught, even forbidden, by the Jedi. Yet, it somehow came naturally to Vanis. At the bar, the Hands began to panic. The Weequay scanned the crowd out of an almost paranoid sense of foreboding; as if in imminent mortal danger. It was at that moment he spotted Vanis.

The padawan was driven solely on his desire to exact retribution on the Weequay that had eluded him before. There was no tact to this plan, no strategy on how to quietly deal with the fugitive. It was apparent the deed was going to happen in the full view of everyone in the cantina.

A grip clenched Vanis' left arm and broke his focus. It was the young woman, who grabbed Vanis to pull him back to his senses.

"Not here," she whispered in his ear, almost chastising him.

Hands spotted the pair. He recognized the woman; seemingly in association with the Jedi padawan. The Weequay knew he had played the fool. It did not matter if the woman was involved in law enforcement or a bounty hunter; the Jedi was dangerous.

This Jedi did not follow the rules of the order, as the public interpreted them. Vanis was driven by a desire to end the Weequay. Hands felt his courage drain, terror quickly taking its place. The only option left was to run. Having not even received his drink, Hands fled from the bar and out from the cantina. Vanis swore loudly.

"You let him get away!" he shouted at the woman.

Vanis broke free of her grasp using an unintended push from the Force that sent the young woman stumbling back. For a second time, Vanis found himself in pursuit of the Weequay, Heebl Volsulc, as he had been identified. There would be no escape for Hands. Vanis would ensure he was not denied the satisfaction of ending the fugitive's life.

Volsulc pushed his way through the crowd of pedestrians that hustled along the walkway along the many libation establishments. The stakes were clear and he knew it was either escape or face certain death. This was no ordinary Jedi in pursuit. Volsulc had his run-ins with the law, from time to time. They were never this violent, this determined to inflict pain and suffering.

An open-top airspeeder descended to the designated loading point for passengers. It was painted in taxi livery and was responding to a hail to pick up waiting fares. Volsulc noticed the speeder approached and rushed onto the platform. The door had just opened outward and the fares, four Aqualish, prepared to board. Hand shoved through them and grabbed their seat inside. The patriarchal Aqualish let out a protest, as Hands drew a holdout blaster.

"Drive," Hands instructed, pointing it to the driver's head.

The airspeed accelerated and climbed sharply upwards. The Aqualish shook their fists in anger and did not notice the youth pass them by. Vanis had broken into a run and dashed up the steps to the elevated cab platform. There was no railing around the edge of the platform; to afford more room for the airspeeders to land. Summoning the Force to give him strength, Vanis leaped.

The distance from the airspeeder and the platform was far too great for any human to achieve, at least those not in tune with the Force. With his arm outstretched, Vanis grasped an outcropped bar on the rear fender of the airspeeder.

Volsulc, who had nervously settled down in the airspeeder, held the holdout blaster to the head of the driver. A sudden jolt shifted the airspeeder's course until the driver was able correct. The turbulence had knocked Volsulc from his seat and he moved to investigate the source. Peering cautiously over the side, Hands spotted the young Jedi.

All around, other airspeeds darted across the night sky in the busy airways designated for traffic. The driver, in his panic, weaved dangerously through the throngs of vehicles; compensating for the drastic turbulent shift. The other pilots sounded their horns and warning sirens to bring attention to the erratic flying.

Several blaster shots burst out from the taxi, as Volsulc opened fire on the pursuing Jedi. Vanis pulled his body under the ventral side of the cab to evade the firing. The power pack of the holdout blaster had been drained by the shooting, with no bolts finding their intended target. Some did strike the chassis of passing airspeeders, however. Volsulc was forced to reload; dropping the power cartridge out and grasping a spare from his belt.

Vanis sensed the urgency of Volsulc's action and interpreted the reloading action. A hand removed the lightsaber from the bomber jacket interior pocket. Ready to ignite the blade, this time for the kill, Vanis cleared his mind to focus on his movement. Still underneath the cab and grasping the bar, the padawan kicked off with booted feet and swung himself up and over the rear fender. A twist in mid-air, Vanis landed just behind the rear seat of cab, lightsaber powered.

Hands had reloaded and fired off a quick shot. Vanis promptly deflected the blast in one motion and in a follow-up, brought the lightsaber's blade down to sever the hand that held the blaster. The Weequay let out a screech, as he watched the amputated hand, still clutching the weapon fall to the floor of the cab, his right wrist searing from the energy blade strike.

The taxi made an abrupt nose dive, losing altitude quickly as it descended toward to the ground. The shot Vanis had deflected from the blaster struck the cab's driver in the back of the head, killing him instantly. It was not intentional on the part of Vanis, simply an inexperienced padawan not yet fully proficient in the practice of deflection. The driver had slumped forward onto the controls and sent the taxi into its dive.

Vanis lost all focus on the situation concerning the driver and the out of control vehicle. All the anger, the hatred directed towards the Weequay, who was in a state of near shock. Pushing forward, Vanis seized Volsulc by the tunic and threw him against the rear facing seats that backed up to the driver's compartment. Positioning the lightsaber to the neck of the Weequay, Vanis prepared to decapitate his foe in his final act of vengeance.

The terror experienced by Hands only served to further empower Vanis. So consumed with killing the Weequay, Vanis failed to notice the airbus, laden with passengers directly in the path of the diving cab.

The airbus was the cross-ward circulator, with an elongated body and an operator's cab positioned on the rear dorsal section for optimal visibility. It was hovering about twenty-five meters above the ground when the taxi collided. The front end of the cab tore into the top of the bus and crashed through the interior. Vanis lost the saber from his grasp, as the weapon flew away in the impact. The cab buckled and its body compressed from the impact. Both vehicles began a hard plummet to the ground; the repulsor lifts of bus failing.

Vanis did not remember the crash. His head was throbbing and a stream of blood ran down his face. A twisted section of wrecked durasteel was directly to his front. He started to prop himself up on his arms to drag himself away from the wreckage that burned, not more than a few meters away. Vanis wanted to stand, search for the Weequay, who he remembered had yet to die by his blade, but there was no feeling. Dragging himself along, he felt lighter than he normally expected.

Propped upon his elbows, Vanis peered down and, to his horror, discovered his right leg had been completely severed. There was a mangled stump of sinew and exposed bone, just below the knee that bled profusely. The remainder of the leg was nowhere to be found. His left leg was not much better, as a few strands of muscle held it in place. The act of dragging the limb had cut the few tendons and it soon detached.

Letting himself fall on his back, Vanis stared up at the night sky. The pain from his legs was excruciating, but the uncertainty of killing Hands caused the most distress. A heavy rain began to fall and the sound of emergency vehicles responding drowned out the noise of the city night. Vanis made no further attempt to move, the loss of blood affected the padawan and he slowly drifted from consciousness.

**000**

The disgraced Vanis sat in the hover chair in the midst of the Jedi council, assembled in the council's chambers. After several days languishing in the Temple's infirmary, it was determined Vanis could appear for his disciplinary proceedings. The padawan had lost both of his legs in the collision with the airbus. He did not remember the specifics of the crash. A medical droid in the infirmary informed him that the legs were sheared off in the impact. He had to be medically amputated to just above his knees in order to close the wounds. There had been no discussion, as of yet, about the fitting of prosthetics.

Master Bek'curuy hissed in his address to those in attendance the charges for which Vanis was accused. They included manslaughter, six people had been killed in the collision with the airbus, assault on citizens of the Republic, theft of Jedi property, violating curfew, leaving the Temple grounds without permission, and unauthorized practice of the Force. Vanis made no counter argument, he did not speak at all, rather staring back in contempt. Bek'curuy cleared his throat, ready to proceed with the evidence listed on the datapad. Master Auvahl, the Miraluka on the council, raised her hand as an indication for Bek'curuy to stop. They were all well aware of what the padawan had done.

"Padwan Vanis," Auvahl began, guided to speak in his direction by the Force, for lack of normal eyesight. "There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no chaos; there is harmony. There is no death; there is the Force."

"You call me here to recite the Code?" Vanis grunted, annoyed.

Bek'curuy wanted to raise a hand and strike the padawan for the remark. Auvahl was quick to intervene, conjuring a sense of calmness among the gathered Jedi. It was able to settle Bek'curuy, yet caused Vanis some discomfort. Then Auvahl continued in the tone of a wise teacher instructing a student,

"Master Bek'curuy would be wise to take heed of the words of the Code and reflect upon them in his next meditation."

"Forgive me master," Bek'curuy said, nodding his head in penance for his outburst.

The Twi'lek Bek'curuy took a step back to periphery of the assembled council. The Masters remained silent, diligently observing Auvahl, as she led the inquest. Auvahl, in her later years, her skin wrinkled and worn from decades of service to the Order, leaned forward in her chair. She reached out with the Force to read Vanis, to peek into the mind of the troubled padawan.

"I sense great pain inside you, padawan Vanis," Auvahl said. "Your thoughts dwell much on fear and doubt. You allow your actions to be driven by passion and anger. These are very troubling signs. They will take you down a path you do not want to travel."

Vanis gripped the armrest on his hover chair, his fingers digging into the cushion and puncturing the foam in places. The outburst from Bek'curuy offered strength for Vanis to feed on and grow his anger. The situation already had the tempered padawan on edge, the loss of his lower limbs, the confinement to a hover chair, the perceived humiliation of this disciplinary lecture. He could sense the masters on the council attempting to gauge his emotional state. The last remark had struck a nerve with Vanis, and he shifted in the chair. Propped on his left arm, he leaned forward, venom on his tongue.

"Perhaps it is the path I wish to travel," he uttered.

There was a shared silence among the council masters, who remained stoic. While they did not outwardly express their shock to Vanis' response, the padawan could sense their reactions. The consensus was split, as was much of the debate concerning Vanis. There were those who were horrified by the statement and believed the youth had submitted to the dark side. Others more sensibly attributed it to teenage angst; too naïve to understand the depth of what he said, but willing to say in order to disrupt his elders.

Master Auvahl aligned with a middle faction. She believed that the padawan was intentionally trying to test the patience of the council. However, Auvahl could also sense the dark side rooted in the youth. Should he be left to his own devices, he could very well pursue that path. The last thing the Jedi and the Republic wanted was a practicing dark side user running amok. Executing Vanis, because of the potential threat he posed, was out of the question for it was not the Jedi way.

If he were to be remanded to the Temple, the Jedi could keep watch over Vanis. In time, they may be able to turn him back toward the light side of the Force; a very long and arduous journey. It could even take decades, but the other options were inconceivable.

"Hadariel Vanis," Auvahl began, projecting her voice with an air of authority. "It is my recommendation before the Jedi council that you be expelled from Jedi order and stripped of your rank as padawan; denied further instruction towards the rank of Jedi master. You will, however, be remanded into the permanent custody of the Jedi order to be confined within the Jedi Temple. Your life will remain in service to the order, though not as a Jedi. In time, if you are willing to give yourself over fully to the light side of the Force, your status may be reexamined."

A silence loomed over the assembly when Auvahl concluded. The masters nodded in unison; indication they supported the sanctions. It would soon be officially decided. Vanis would be shunned by the order, but not allowed to leave the grounds of the Temple. He was to be reduced to the part of a menial servant at the beck and call of any Jedi who commanded.

Vanis wished he could just be exiled from the order; sent away as far as possible. He wanted to return to his family and his home world of Koruna. There, he could assume his birthright in the line of succession and rule the system. His connection to the Force would make him a powerful ruler. Quickly, Vanis found himself fantasizing about governing, rejoining House Vanis and ascending to the role of Viscount. He was completely detached from the present, as the council passed their sentence.

**000**

The months appeared to blend together, the days became a grind of monotony. Vanis, despised by his peers and shunned by the order, had mostly been forgotten. Life at the Jedi Temple continued with padawans training in the ways of the Force, the masters seeking further enlightenment; not a spare thought was given to the crippled, disgraced, former padawan passed by in the corridors.

He had stopped his pleas for artificial limbs weeks ago when it became clear the masters would not consider the request. Their argument stated the requisitioning of artificial limbs was reserved for Jedi and the effort would be wasted on Vanis, who was not. At one point, Vanis sought to contact his family on Koruna, but this was forbidden by the council. Confined to the hover chair, there was little manual work he could be made to do and was thus relegated to the Jedi library to assist the archivists.

In the library, the archivists assigned the youth to review databases and texts for errors or data corruption. In some cases, transcribing fragile manuscripts to the holo database. Other duties included cataloging Force-sensitive artifacts that were recovered throughout the Galaxy and brought to the Temple. Vanis found himself pouring over the ancient texts on the ways of the Jedi and the Force. Most topics covered different uses and manipulations of the Force. Initially, he thought the studies boring and menial, but that changed as he began to understand fine details not often taught or explored in depth through regular instruction.

The labor brought him soon enough to matters on the dark side. It was not intentional; not like Vanis sought these written accounts and records. They were merely set in front of him by an archivist, as more work to be done. Vanis began to study them closely and with a passionate interest. He was both curious and entranced by the teachings on the dark side of the Force. The stories and legends of the Sith, in particular, fascinated Vanis and he poured over every detail.

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion." Vanis read the words, the first line of the Sith Code and he understood them, as if they were speaking directly to him. The Code penned thousands of years ago by the renegade Jedi, Sorzus Syn. He had stumbled upon this document in a collection of reports on the ancient Sith.

_Peace is a lie, there is only passion._

_Through passion, I gain strength._

_Through strength, I gain power._

_Through power, I gain victory._

_Through victory, my chains are broken._

_The Force shall free me._

The words resonated deeply with Vanis. For his entire life, he had been brought up by the Jedi, learning the Jedi way, much to his resistance. There was much conflict in the youth and he spent years fighting an internal battle. The Jedi were constantly instructing him to suppress his feelings, his passions, but those emotions always seemed to fight their way to the surface. It contributed to his anger, his temper, and his desire to seek retribution on Hands.

Slowly, Vanis was piecing everything together. Not fully realizing it, he had been practicing elements of the dark side. He had drawn on the fear of others, his own rage, to give him strength in battle. In other instances, he had been able to project those negative elements onto others to bend them to his will or weaken them in combat. He was made a prisoner by the Jedi, not just in this current situation, but all his life.

It was late in the Jedi library, in fact, the time had already crossed into the next day. The illuminators were turned low and darkness swept through the shelves that stretched upwards and packed with holodisks. Vanis sat behind his assigned work desk within the archivist office, with a single illuminator affixed to the surface providing the only source of light. He had not realized the hour until he stopped to lean back in his chair.

The hours spent staring at the holographic screens had strained his eyes and the hunched position of reading had stiffened the muscles in his back. The other archivists had retired for the evening; letting Vanis continue working uninterrupted. It was tedious work they all performed and none enjoyed any interruption.

Vanis had reviewed many of the dark side teachings and the accounts of Naga Sadow, Exar Kun, and Darth Malak's War. The knowledge was never taught to Jedi padawans; considered by the Jedi to be dangerous information. Little of this information was known beyond the highest circles of the Jedi order. Judging by the deteriorating condition of the reports, Vanis deduced it had not been reviewed for some time. Conventional theory upheld that the Sith were extinct.

There was one account Vanis came back to time and time again. In fact, this evening he had just concluded another source's description. It was of Darth Revan and his return to the light. Revan had left an account of a meeting with what he claimed was the immortal Sith Emperor who had turned him and his apprentice, Malak, to the dark side. This Emperor lead Revan to initiate the Jedi Civil War and the devastating conflicts that followed. Upon the cessation of hostilities Revan had been redeemed and the Republic triumphant, though at the cost of the near annihilation of the Jedi.

Following the conflict, Revan had disappeared chasing visions of that Emperor, nearly three hundred years ago. So many of the accounts varied, some believing Revan, others dismissing him, while those still held their grudge over his defection to the dark side and sought to make it known. Vanis finished the account and began to ponder a thought that had been on his mind for weeks. Perhaps there was something for him beyond the confines of the Jedi Temple. A chance at a new life where he could explore this ever growing interest in the dark side of the Force.

Glancing at the wall mounted chrono, Vanis noticed the lateness of the hour and calculated sunrise was only a short few hours away. He decided to conclude for the evening. Being a personal workspace, he was not required to re-shelve the materials strewn about the desk. Rather, they just needed to be secured in one of the drawers to the side.

As he turned in his chair, he placed the research datapad in the drawer first and then picked up a catalog. The catalog was a well-worn and cracked folder that contained pockets to hold numerous holodisks in a bound collection. In the act of placing the catalog into the drawer, a small disk fell from its folds and landed on the floor in a soft impact.

The oblong, metallic cartridge, which did not share the appearance of the common holodisks. This device was a midnight onyx color with no discernable activation buttons or connection terminals. When he had placed the catalog in drawer and turned to gather loose article, he paused.

There was a negative energy cast about the library at this moment, and Vanis sensed something was off. The air was still and residual noise of the Temple seemed to fall away into total silence. Vanis felt beckoned to the cartridge. An unseen voice whispered and he turned his head around in surprise, but there was nothing. It was in a language he did not recognize; nothing like any of the familiar alien dialects. The deep and disfiguring scars on his face, left by the Weequay, began to burn.

Despite the pain, Vanis felt himself drawn closer to the cartridge and leaned forward, careful to balance himself with his left arm so as not to fall from his hover char, to collect the device. Grasping it in his hand, he arched his back and sat upright.

The cartridge came to life seemingly on its own. The top pealed itself apart in two sections that retracted to expose a holo emitter. The emitter powered on without Vanis taking any action. It was a hologram projected in the rarely used red tint and depicted an image of an intricately carved pyramid. Text boxes jutted out from the ornate pyramid that offered a complete description of the object. Vanis started to read with eager anticipation upon coming to the conclusion that the object depicted was a Sith holocron.

Vanis delved deeper into the description. It was recorded thousands of years ago by Yusim, a Sith apprentice, of their master's holocron. The master, a Pureblood Sith named Juzhum, assembled this holocron and imparted upon on all of their teachings. One such teaching was a powerful manipulation of the Force, most certainly condemned by the Jedi. It was a power called Forcebreaking.

Through this power, the wielder could willfully sever their Force-sensitive opponent's connection to the Force permanently. It would leave the opponent devoid of any further ability to call upon the Force; dissolving their sensitivity to the power, be it the light or dark side. This could render them defenseless for the reminder of a fight, or reduced to the life of an ordinary being. Vanis came to life with excitement, as he continued to read.

The Sith apprentice continued their account. Juzhum the Forcebreaker had used their power to devastating effect; rarely killing a Jedi in combat, but merely unleashing the unique attack. Their Jedi opponent would go weak and be stopped dead in their tracks. Often, the Jedi would collapse to the ground and begin to compulsively weep. Their connection to the Force permanently broken; what made them a Jedi gone forever. Most of these Force-broken would end up taking their own lives, as they were unable to cope in the absence of the Force.

Unfortunately for Yusim, Juzhum kept the secret of Forcebreaking to himself, and would not share it with his apprentice. Knowing it had been recorded onto his master's holocron, Yusim attempted to steal the artifact to learn the power on his own. The holocron remained locked and refused to activate. An infuriated Yusim confronted his master, demanding to know the secret. Juzhum refused to divulge any information and claimed only one worthy of the dark side would be able to activate the holocron. In a blind fury, Yusim struck his master down.

The account was written in Yusim's old age, recounting a lifetime with the knowledge just beyond his grasp. Never taking an apprentice of his own, his life was an obsession devoted to the Sith artifact. In all his years after killing his master, Yusim was never able to activate the holocron, to learn the power. Yusim concluded with the location where he hid the holocron and his desire that a worthy dark lord be able to unlock its secrets.

The cartridge powered off abruptly and the panels covered the emitter. Vanis rubbed his eyes and looked at up to see the dawn sun seep through the large windows. The rays beginning to brighten the library. Having been so engrossed in Yusim's account, he had lost track of the remaining night and it soon turned to morning. Hastily, Vanis tucked the cartridge into a breast pocket on his tunic and powered off his desk illuminator. He secured the desk drawer with a secure code and accelerated the hover chair. If he was luck, he might be able to get an hour or two of rest before the archivists set to day's work.

Leaving in a hurry, Vanis did not notice he was being watched. Bek'curuy, his former master, hid in the shadows while to youth passed on the hover chair. A disturbance in the Force had roused the master from his bed and he wander the halls of the Temple in a restless anxiety.

Bek'curuy could not quite surmise what exactly had woken him in the middle of the night. As he paced the long corridors, the Force called to the master. It lead him in the direction of the library, almost conveying a sense of urgency, distress. Entering, Bek'curuy noticed the illuminators were on in the archivist offices. Approaching with caution and masking his presence in the Force to remain undetected, he noticed his former padawan. To his shock, Bek'curuy saw Vanis gawking at the holographic projection of the Sith holocron.

The Twi'lek master waited for his former pupil to depart the library before he swiftly made his way over to the vacated desk. Waving his hand, Bek'curuy summoned the Force to disengage the drawer lock. He carefully rifled through the contents, knowing archivists stored their unfinished projects in their desk drawers.

A sense of horror and alarm shot through Bek'curuy, as he read the titles on each of the holodisks. Every single one concerned either the Sith, the dark side of the Force, or an account of someone who practiced in the art. He lifted the datapad and started to browser through the recently accessed files. There were materials concerning Sith rituals, how to summon the power of the dark side; everything needed for an individual to train themselves in its use.

All of his concerns seemed to be vindicated. Hadariel Vanis, his former padawan, was treading the path to the dark side. It was no accidental dabbling, or uncontrolled experimentation with his powers. This was all intentional. It was not a failing on Bek'curuy's part or his teaching, the Twi'lek surmised, or rather convinced himself. Vanis was being claimed by the dark side.

Bek'curuy breathed a sigh of relief at his conclusion the youth had fallen from the light and it was inevitable; the will of the Force. This would, in Bek'curuy's opinion, absolve him of the failure. He would need to build more evidence against Vanis, not difficult if he kept up a discreet surveillance. Presenting the evidence to Master Auvahl, the council would have to take a more punitive approach.

**000**

"Wake up!" a voice commanded and an arm shoved.

Vanis opened his heavy and exhausted eyes to see one of the junior archivists standing above his bed in the dormitory.

"The latest crate of artifacts just arrived from Korriban," the archivist continued. "Lots of cataloging to be done, and you're here sleeping."

The archivist let out a final snort and departed the dormitory to begin the task. Vanis pulled himself up to a seated position in the bed, massaging the soreness from the amputated stumps on each leg. There were ten beds in total in this dormitory Vanis shared with the other junior archivists, five lining each wall. He felt the fatigue of the inadequate amount of sleep and resented the early awakening.

The others spurned Vanis and he knew they would not have woken him to allow enough time to shower, sit for breakfast before having to report to the library. It was best he make straight for his desk to continue his work before a senior librarian came to fetch him, as that would incur some unpleasant extra duties.

Since Vanis occupied a bed nearest a corner, there was enough room for him to keep his hoverchair close to immediately transfer. He sat up and pulled himself into the chair and glided over to the assigned cabinet that held his librarian's robes. Pulling a clean robe from the drawer, Vanis was a bit surprised when the business card fell from one of the folds in the garment. Even more to his consternation was the fact Vanis did not recall removing that card from the pocket of the jacket.

In the time since the mysterious woman had passed him the card, Vanis had nearly forgotten all about it. After quickly slipping into the robes, he glanced at the card held between his thumb and forefinger. The numerical registration code, the one that did not match the proper Republic designated format, brought the most attention. Able to devote his full attention, Vanis recognized the pattern; not an imaginary registration, but contact channel for a personal communicator. It would be worth a follow up, Vanis thought.

The opportunity to call would have to wait for a time when Vanis could place a communication without arousing too much suspicion. The communicator at his archivist desk could be easily modified to place an untraceable call. Vanis would be granted the opportunity, for at that moment, the senior librarian entered the dormitory in a displeased state. With some hard chastisement delivered to Vanis on the subject of tardiness, the librarian assigned the youth extra duties that would have him the library until a late hour that night. Then ordering Vanis to proceed to the library to begin the day's work.

**000**

"Master, I fear we may have been too lenient in regards to my former padawan," said Bek'curuy.

The Twi'lek sat in the private meditation chamber with Master Auvahl. He had come to the Master's chamber in an exasperated state after his impromptu search of Vanis' desk. Auvahl had sought to calm Bek'curuy, insisting he recite the Jedi Code and entering into a short contemplative meditation before proceeding.

"You sense a growing darkness in Vanis?" Auvahl asked, though in a manner indicating she was well informed on the matter.

"Throughout his training, he has been nothing but…irregular," Bek'curuy said, with a brief pause. "And just this morning, in the early hours, I find him viewing holograms of a Sith Holocron."

"He has been assigned the position of an archivist. Would his responsibilities not include the review of ancient records? It is within reason that he be tasked to transcribe such materials."

"But it is much more than that, Master. It is all he seems to review. I waited until he retired and departed the library. I went to see for myself, what exactly he has been working on. In his desk were all manner of documents, accounts, and other materials on the dark side and of the Sith."

"This does seem troubling."

"You heard his outburst at the tribunal that stripped him of his rank. His expressed interest in the dark side!"

Bek'curuy was getting himself worked up into an excited state. It was to a point where Auvahl had to summon the projection of calmness to alleviate the Twi'lek's growing frustration. Once Bek'curuy was able to gain composure, the Miraluka spoke,

"You are letting your feelings obscure your judgement. You devote too much attention on Vanis' failure in the Order, seeking excuses over accepting responsibility. Master Bek'curuy, I worry as to why you are so eager to deflect blame?"

"Master…I…" Bek'curuy started a response, but was quieted by a raised hand from Auvahl.

"Vanis is responsible for his actions and has faced the consequences. He is serving his penance and will do so until the Jedi determine otherwise. I believe we, as an Order, have failed him. We had the responsibility to guide him in the ways of the Force, and we have failed."

Auvahl stared at Bek'curuy. Even with the bits of cloth covering where humanoids generally had conventional eyes, the Miraluka appeared to look directly into the one she addressed. The Twi'lek hung his head low, as he reflected on the Master's words. He had sought too much to absolve himself of all responsibility, yet it was there. The Jedi had failed Vanis and they needed to come to terms with that failure. Auvahl could sense the inadequacy in Bek'curuy and sought to ease the troubled thoughts.

"We can only learn from this incident," Auvahl said, projecting a sense of reassurance. "We will grow from this mistake to ensure it does not happen again. And it must not happen again. If it requires patience and extra effort with troubled padawan, then that is what we must do."

"Yes Master, I understand," said Bek'curuy.

"Trust in the Force, Master Bek'curuy. All is as the Force wills."

**000**


End file.
